


measure twice, cut once

by Aintzane411



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Ableist Language, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hance brotp, Heavy Angst, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Self-Harm, cutting and hitting and biting, like graphic self harm, lowkey klance, omg i didnt know that was a tag lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aintzane411/pseuds/Aintzane411
Summary: a blade is blade, whether on earth or in spaceor5 times Lance has fresh cuts and 1 time he doesn't





	

**Author's Note:**

> major self harm tw, of course. use of ableist slur psy**o in 4th vignette
> 
> the klance in this is relatively weak, tbh. could honestly be read as brotp until the +1 when it gets a lil shippy. i was focusing more on lance instead of the ship.

.oo1.

Lance hissed as the metal slid across his skin, blood quickly welling up behind it. There were ten cuts on his arm, all gently bleeding. He let the razor fall from his fingers with a sigh. God, he had missed it. He knew that he'd regret this decision in a few hours, but for now he just let himself bask in the stinging relief as he let his uninjured hand fall to the floor and leaned against his bed.

He didn't know how long they had been in space for, but it had to have been at least three months. Maybe four. So that means he would have been almost at an entire year clean. Oh, well.

It was a habit that Lance frequently found himself coming back to again and again. No matter what happened or changed in his life, he knew that there was one thing that would stay the same. A blade was a blade, whether on earth or in space.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clearing his head. Bandages. He dragged himself up from the floor and walked to the bathroom, where he pulled a first aid kit from under the sink. A few minutes later, his arm was clean and wrapped tight with gauze. The cuts weren't bad, but they were still bleeding enough that band aids wouldn't suffice this time.

It wasn't a big deal. It was just another relapse that he'd have to ride out.

_____________________________

The next time it happened, it was a bit of a bigger deal. It was after yet another battle against a fleet of battleships that ended in the paladins retreating through a wormhole. Lance knew it was his fault. He should have been paying more attention, then maybe he could have blocked the shot that blasted the green lion and led to Pidge being in a healing pod with four broken ribs. Lance should have been looking out for her, but instead he let himself get distracted.

Once Pidge was safely in a pod, Keith turned on Lance.

"You idiot!" he yelled, pushing Lance aggressively. "You were supposed to cover for her!"

"I'm sorry," Lance stammered, eyes wide. He took a step back, quickly regaining his balance.

"She could have died!" Keith said venomously. "She could have died and it would have been on your shoulders, Lance. Don't forget that." He stormed out, leaving the rest of the paladins staring after him in shock.

Lance felt his hands start to shake and tears were welling up in his eyes. Hunk took a step forward, reaching out as if to steady him. "Lance, it's okay," he said. "Pidge is okay, she's gonna be fine. We're all okay." He put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Lance shrugged it off and rushed out.

Keith was right. Pidge could have died, and it would have been Lance's fault. He struggled to navigate through the hallways of the castle, his vision blurred with tears. When he finally made it to his room, he locked the door and let his legs give out. Tears streamed down his face. He had always known he was the weakest link of the team, but this was the first time someone else was seriously injured because of his incompetence. Pidge was just a kid; she didn't deserve this.

With a sob, Lance launched himself across the room to his nightstand. He dug around for a moment before pulling out his razor. He tugged his sleeve up and slashed at his skin, over and over again, until was finally able to breathe.

_Shit._

There was a lot of blood. It stained the metal of the blade and was dripping to the floor. He hadn't cut this bad in years. He head swam a bit as he took in everything. He looked up at the bathroom door and saw just how far away it seemed. He had flown a magic lion across the universe, but the ten feet to the bathroom looked uncrossable.

There was a knock at the door, and Lance jumped in surprise. Now was definitely not a good time to have visitors, but the knock came again.

"Lance?"

 _Double shit._ It was Shiro. Lance couldn't let him see him like this. He gathered his strength and pushed himself off the floor.

"Lance, open the door, I just want to talk."

He stumbled towards the bathroom, almost falling. He caught himself on the door jamb, leaving a bloody handprint. "Go away, Shiro," he called over his shoulder. "I don't want to talk."

Shiro hesitated and sighed. "Okay, but don't think you're getting out of it. We're all here for you when you do want to talk."

Lance heard footsteps fade away and he finally let himself breathe. In his scramble, he had smeared blood all over himself, and he sighed. Cleaning up was going to take a long time. He turned on the sink and began to wash his arm. As the blood swirled down the drain, he realized that two of the cuts were still bleeding in earnest. Closing his eyes, he sighed and prepared himself for the necessary trek to the med bay he'd need to take. His first aid kit may be well stocked, but he needed butterfly bandages, and that was one thing he didn't have.

When the majority of the blood was gone, Lance gingerly pulled his jacket on. He poked his head out of his room and started to quickly walk down the hallway. In and out, that's all it was. So why was his heart racing and why were his hands shaking so much? He clutched his left arm to his chest, hoping the pressure would help.

When he reached the med bay, he immediately darted to where he remembered Coran pulling them from. Lance glanced at his arm. He wanted to get back to his room as soon as possible, but he could already see a speck of red where the cuts were bleeding through his jacket. He pulled the sleeve up and was just about to start applying the new bandages when the door slid open.

Lance yanked the sleeve back down and froze, not wanting to know who just walked in on him. Maybe if he ignored that this was happening, he would magically wake up in his bed with clean arms and an uninjured Pidge.

"What are you doing in here?" Keith asked. His voice sounded tired.

"I wasn't feeling well," Lance lied, shoving butterfly strips into his pocket. "Needed something for my stomach." He turned to see Keith clutching his side and leaning against the door frame. "What happened?"

Keith stared at the floor. "Training bot got in a good hit. It's just a small burn from its energy staff." He looked up. "Lance, I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have said those things. We all make mistakes sometimes and I shouldn't have been so hard on you."

Lance knew that hearing an apology from Keith was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But he could feel blood starting to drip down his arm. "It's fine," he said, moving towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Keith asked, annoyed. "I'm trying to be a good teammate and actually talk to you like a responsible person and you're just running off?"

"Sorry, I just–"

"Wait!" Keith reached out to grab at Lance, and his fingers wrapped around his hurt arm.

"Ah!" Lance gasped, jerking his arm back and clutching it to his chest. He let out his breath in a hiss and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to fade away.

Keith stared at the specks of blood on his own hand, quickly putting two and two together. "Why is your arm bleeding?" he demanded.

Lance held his breath, mind racing to think of an excuse, but drawing a blank.

"Okay…" Keith said suspiciously at Lance's lack of an answer. "Let me see."

Before Lance knew what was happening, his sleeve had been pulled up and his arm was exposed.

Keith inhaled sharply, then winced at the pain that shot through his injured side. "Sit," he insisted, and Lance did. He silently pulled the bandages out of his pocket and held them towards Keith, who expertly put them over the cuts and re-wrapped everything in gauze. When he was done, he sat in a chair opposite Lance and tried to come up with something to say.

"Lance, are–"

"Please," Lance said, his voice catching. "Just... Can we pretend this didn't happen? Thanks for patching me up, but I really just want to go take a nap." He stood and hurried toward the door, pretending he didn't hear Keith calling his name behind him.

Keith tried to follow him, but the pain in his side was only getting worse and he winced when he tried to get up from the chair. He stared at Lance's retreating back, taking in his hunched shoulders and couldn't help but wonder just how broken he was.

 

 

.oo2.

Lance was surprisingly good at diplomacy meetings. He was naturally charismatic, and had been diligently working on his professionalism and conversational skills. Often, while Allura and Shiro were talking to kings or queens or other leaders, Lance would sidle up next to a prince or a duchess and get some practice. Sure, every now and then he couldn't help but flirt a little, but it was in his nature. Still, even Allura agreed that Lance was doing a great job.

So it really wasn't his fault when things fell apart. How was he supposed to know the customs of every single alien race in the universe? How was he supposed to anticipate that the crown prince was homophobic? They were aliens, for fuck’s sake, and Lance really didn't expect an alien to care about gender. But here he was, being escorted from the palace after Prince Nazan slapped him and called for the guards. He could hear Shiro behind him, trying to fix his mistake. Lance felt his face burn with embarrassment when he heard, "Of course, Your Majesty, he won't be a problem. You have my word, Lance won't leave our ship for the duration of our visit."

The meeting was rescheduled for the next day, and the team retired to the Castle of Lions. As soon as the pod landed, Lance was out of the ship and halfway to the door of the hangar, leaving everyone else in the dust. Hunk moved to go after him, but was stopped by Shiro.

"Let him be. He just needs some time, I think. He'll come around." Shiro followed Lance to the doors.

Hunk watched as Lance walked away, not entirely convinced by Shiro's words. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keith come stand next to him.

"I'm worried about him," Keith said frankly.

Hunk nodded. "Me, too. Something's up."

"You're closer to him than I am. Maybe you can talk to him?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea."

_____________________________

Hunk tried to talk to Lance, but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find him. He wasn't in his room, he wasn't in the common area, he wasn't on the training deck. After two hours of looking, Hunk didn't know what else to do, and he dejectedly made his way towards the dining room for dinner.

Everyone was already there, save for Lance, and Hunk couldn't quite bring himself to eat. He turned to Keith, who was sitting next to him.

"Hey, have you seen Lance at all?"

Keith thought for a moment. "No, not since we got back."

Hunk sighed and rubbed his face. "This isn't good," he muttered to himself.

Pidge chimed in from across the table, "I saw him heading to his room on my way down here. Said he wasn't hungry."

In a flash, Hunk was out of his seat and heading for the door. "Thanks, Pidge," he called over his shoulder. He did a double-take when he saw Keith following him, but didn't say anything. Together they made their way through the hallways.

"What did you mean when you said that this isn't good?" Keith asked, easily keeping up with Hunk's fast pace.

"Back at the Garrison, Lance had a really rough time sometimes," Hunk explained. "He'd get super homesick and would start to get into his head too much. All the pressure from classes never helped, either, and he..." He glanced at Keith briefly. "Well, it's not my place to tell."

"He would cut himself, right?"

Hunk stopped in his tracks, and Keith almost ran into him. "How did you know that?"

"Come on, we should hurry."

_____________________________

When Hunk knocked on the locked door, there was no answer. Both boys were immediately suspicious and worried, and Hunk tried again.

"Lance? It's me and Keith. You okay in there?"

There's still no answer, but Keith's heart was racing and he knew he had to get into that room _now._ He pulled out his bayard and activated it, shoving the blade between the door and the jamb and pushing with all his might. Slowly, the door inched open enough for Hunk to slip his hand in and trigger the unlock mechanism on the inside.

Lance was sitting on his bed. He didn't even spare a glance at the two who just broke into his room. His razor was held loosely in his hand and his arm was dripping blood onto his sheets, but he didn't seem to care. He just sat there, blank and empty.

Keith rushed forward and knocked the blade from Lance's hand, finally prompting him to do something other than just sit there. Lance's eyes locked with Keith's but there was nothing inside them. Keith's hands started to shake, unsure of what to do.

"Lance, buddy," Hunk's gentle voice interrupted Keith's thoughts. Hunk sat down next to Lance and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Lance's eyes drifted over to look at him. "Keith, go grab his first aid kit. It's probably under the bathroom sink."

Keith jumped up and went to fetch it.

Hunk gently pulled Lance toward him until he was leaning into his side. He stroked his fingers through Lance's hair, and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. "You're okay," he said as Keith came back with the kit and started to clean Lance's arm. "Can you hear me? Give me a nod so I know you're here."

Slowly, Lance nodded, eyes still closed.

"Can you talk yet?"

He shook his head.

"That's okay. It's okay, Lance. You're okay."

 

 

.oo3.

They were training again, because that seemed like the only thing they ever did. Pidge was missing, off helping Coran with some repairs, leaving the four boys to train without her. It was good practice, and Shiro jumped on the opportunity to work on combat while down a paladin.

Things were going well. Keith and Shiro made a great melee team, with Hunk and Lance providing cover fire with their bayards. They were slowly working their way up the group training levels, each one producing more and more challenges.

They decided to end the session after a particularly successful round that ended with Lance whooping in delight and fist-bumping Hunk.

"Okay, guys," Shiro instructed as they took a few minutes to do some stretches in between exercises. The training bots had all been retracted into the ceiling. "Time for some hand-to-hand, _without_ bayards. It's everyone's weak point, and we need to be prepared for anything."

"One-on-one or group?" Keith asked.

"One-on-one. The other two will hang back and watch. Treat every moment as a learning opportunity."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Sure, dad."

"And for that, Lance," Shiro crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, "You're up first."

They started slow, and Shiro let Lance initiate the first few attacks. He was able to dodge them pretty easily, and he made sure to point out his weak spots. Soon, though, he began to really lay into him.

Lance was panting with the effort he was putting into keeping up with Shiro's fast movements. Within seconds, he had gone from offensive to struggling to keep his defenses up. Shiro wasn't using his Galra arm to its full potential, and Lance was grateful, because that metal hurt like a bitch. He was doing okay until Shiro got in a lucky shot to his forearm. Lance hissed, feeling a few of his cuts open a bit. He began to favor that arm, and Shiro pointed it out.

"The Galra will be able to spot weaknesses in a second," Shiro said, swiping Lance's legs out from under him. "So if you're going to favor something, be ready to increase the power of your other attacks."

After a few more minutes of intense fighting, Lance found himself pinned to the floor, arms wrenched behind his back. He cried out in pain, and Shiro let him up, ending the fight.

"Good work," Shiro said, offering a hand to Lance. "Take a break. Keith, your turn!"

Lance limped over, sat next to Hunk, and began rubbing gently at his arm, trying to soothe the stinging of the cuts that had re-opened.

As the two began to spar, Shiro kept up his teaching voice. "Don't forget, guys," he ducked a well-timed punch Keith threw at his face. "In the heat of battle, you only get one shot." Keith's foot caught him in the stomach and he grunted before advancing on Keith. "That's why we spend so much time preparing. Measure twice, cut once."

Lance snorted. "More like don't measure at all and cut yourself as much as you want, am I right?"

He meant for it to be quiet enough that only Hunk would hear. Back at the Garrison he used to make jokes about it all the time. He hadn't meant for Shiro and Keith to immediately stop fighting and stare at him.

Keith narrowed his eyes at him. "Lance..."

Shiro looked irritated. "Lance, that's really not something to joke about."

Before he could stop himself, Lance heard his voice saying, "Oh, it's fine, I can joke about it if it's about me."

"What do you…?” Shiro's eyes widened as it clicked in his brain. "What? Lance!"

Lance internally groaned and waved his hands dismissively. "Dude, it's fine, I'm being careful."

"Being careful means not hurting yourself! How bad is it?"

"Not bad."

Keith rolled his eyes. "It's pretty bad, Shiro."

Lance gasped. "Keith!"

Shiro knelt in front of Lance and held out his hands. "Let me see." Reluctantly, Lance pulled his sleeves up. Shiro sucked in a breath. "How fresh are those?"

"Um..." Lance averted his eyes. "About three hours?" He felt Hunk put a supportive hand on his shoulder and squeeze gently.

"Go to the med bay," Shiro ordered. "Keith, you go with him. Hunk, you stay."

They split up, and together Hunk and Shiro began cleaning up the training deck.

"Is he going to be okay?" Shiro asked solemnly.

"I mean, define okay?" Hunk shrugged. "He's been dealing with this for a long time. I trust him when he says that it's not bad, but I check in on him a lot."

"How long is a long time?"

Hunk paused, thinking. "Before I met him. So maybe five years or so?"

Shiro sighed, disappointed in himself for not noticing sooner. "What can I do to help?"

"You should probably ask Lance that. But I do know that he needs to be checked up on. He doesn't like it, but he knows he needs it. Every now and then, maybe just pull him aside and ask him how he's doing. Don't believe the first answer, because he'll always say he's fine. Ask twice, or even three times. Wait until you get a real answer. You can see it in his eyes when he's telling the truth about things."

Nodding, Shiro laid a hand on Hunk's shoulder, causing him to look up at him. "I'll do my best. But what can I do to help you? This can't be easy."

Hunk was taken aback. No one had ever asked him how he was handling all of this. He swooped Shiro into a hug. "I don't know, but I'm glad you're here."

_____________________________

Keith and Lance were in the med bay. Again. Lance was sitting on a cot and Keith was patching him up.

Again.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Come on, dude, this isn't necessary. My arm's fine."

"Lance, you started bleeding during training. You're gonna get an infection."

He yanked his arm away, glaring at Keith. "I've gone five years without an infection, thank you very much, so I'll just be going now." He hopped down off the cot and started walking away, but Keith pulled him back. Lance noticed that he grabbed his shoulder instead of his arm, unlike the last time they were in the med bay together.

Keith's brows were pushed together in worry. "Five years?" he asked softly.

Lance nodded, then gasped as Keith's arms were suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him close. He could feel tears welling up, and he discreetly reached up to rub at his eyes. When they finally pulled apart, Keith kept his hands on Lance's shoulders.

"I'm worried about you," he said. "You're my friend, and I don't want to see you hurting." His intense gaze lessened, awkwardness creeping in, and his eyes darted to the floor for a split second. "I'm not good at things like this," he explained, looking at Lance again. "But I want to help you. With whatever you need. Any time, you can talk to me. I mean... If you want."

Lance smiled. "Thank you."

 

 

.oo4.

Keith was being trained as a backup black paladin, and Lance didn't like it at all. It's not that he didn't want Keith to succeed or anything, it's just that he thought that Keith wasn't cut out for it at all. He was impulsive and stubborn and everything a leader shouldn't be. So when Shiro explained why he and Keith were staying late after training so often, Lance felt a fire start to smolder in his chest.

Of course, it didn't help that he had always had self-esteem issues when it came to being lesser than Keith. But that wasn't related, not really.

Who was he kidding? Of course it was related.

Keith was being trained as a backup black paladin and Lance was jealous. In fact, he'd never felt this jealous before. There Keith was, spending hours training with Shiro, and Lance was just stuck in the same place as always, knowing he'd never get a chance to prove himself until after Keith failed, just like at the Garrison.

Needless to say, things were tense between the two boys, and every time Keith checked in on him, Lance couldn't help but get a little more irritated. He knew that Hunk had told Keith and Shiro to check up on him, and he knew he needed it, but he hated it. He hated feeling like a little kid who couldn't be trusted by himself. He hated that every hour, someone else was knocking on his door and asking, "How you doing?" in that same tone of voice. He hated how he had to scramble to hide his blade when the knocks came right before he was about to cut.

They were all at dinner, and Shiro wouldn't stop talking. It felt like everything got on Lance's nerves, and the last thing he wanted to be listening to was Shiro giving Keith more lectures about leadership.

"You have to take everyone's strengths and weaknesses into account," Shiro says. Keith didn't look like he was listening, instead focusing on the bowl of food goo in front of him, but Shiro didn't notice. "Like how we send you in for agility maneuvers, or Pidge in for stealth. And not just the lions, you have to think of their skills. Lance isn't suited well for hand-to-hand combat, so it's better to send either you, me, or Pidge."

Lance scowled, trying to tune him out. It didn't work.

"Above all, patience is essential. I know the whole, 'patience yields focus,' sounds a bit cheesy, but it really is a crucial part of being a leader."

He couldn't hold his tongue anymore. "Patience yields focus," he muttered. Keith glanced up at him, but didn't say anything. Shiro kept talking.

"The head of Voltron provides balance and calm," he said. "And once you get in the black lion, you'll feel the sense of peace she gives off."

Lance scoffed and rolled his eyes. Keith glared at him.

"Piloting Black will be a challenge, though. She doesn't take commands well, if at all. Instead you have to work _with_ her and trust her instincts."

"Oh, my God," Lance blurted out.

Keith slammed his spoon down. " _What,_ Lance?"

He sighed. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Lance stood up and shoved his chair in.

Hunk furrowed his brow. "You okay, dude?"

Lance groaned. "Everyone just stop asking me that, okay?"

Keith stood up, leveling his gaze with Lance's. "We'll stop asking when you stop acting like everything anyone says is a personal attack against you."

"I am _not_ acting like that!"

"You kind of are, Lance," Pidge said.

He glared at her. "I'm not talking to you."

Keith threw his hands up in frustration. "What is _wrong_ with you, Lance? Why are you acting like there's a ten-foot stick up your ass?"

"Newsflash, Keith, people are allowed to get pissed off sometimes."

"Okay, but what's your _problem?_ "

"My problem is you, Keith!" Lance yelled, a few flecks of spit flying from his mouth. "You're my problem, okay? Shiro is getting you all fluffed and ready to be our new leader for God knows what reason, and I think it's the _worst_ decision he's ever made! But I can't say shit, because it's not my place to say so because Shiro is our perfect leader who knows everything. So I stay quiet and just wait for everything to get fucked up because you're not fucking cut out for this!"

Keith's eyes blazed with rage. "Oh, as if you could ever be a better leader than me. You can barely keep yourself sane. You fucking cut yourself, psycho! Who the fuck does that?!”

Everything froze. Pidge's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, her gaze darting between Lance and Keith. Shiro opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Lance.

"Fine." His voice was hard and unwavering. "You're right. Nothing new there. Guess I'll just go fucking cut myself." He turned and stormed out the door.

Shiro stood up and took a step to follow him.

"Let him go," Keith snapped. "He's just being a dick and saying shit to get me riled up. Don't give him the attention he wants."

"Keith," Shiro warned.

"Leave me alone." Keith shoved his chair in violently and stalked out of the room.

Hunk looked at Shiro. "Lance..." he said weakly.

Shiro nodded. "I've got it, don't worry." He left, jogging to find Lance.

Pidge slammed her hands on the table and turned to Hunk. "Okay, what the _fuck_ just happened? What's all this about Lance cutting himself? Why the fuck has no one told me about this? He's my friend, too!" There were tears starting to well in her eyes.

"Hey," Hunk said, always the provider of comfort. "Everything's gonna be okay. Yes, Lance has been hurting himself. It's something he's dealt with for a long time, and it's just another flare-up."

"But why didn't he tell anyone? We could have helped him!"

"Dude, it's Lance, what else do you expect?"

Pidge sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "He's gonna be okay?"

"He's gonna be fine."

_____________________________

Shiro found Lance in his bedroom. The door was ajar, and Shiro pushed it the rest of the way open. Inside, he found Lance sitting on the floor, mid-cut. There were already a handful on his healing skin, and Shiro stood there, shocked, as he watched Lance add two more.

"Lance, stop," he said, rushing forward and kneeling in front of Lance.

"Fuck you," Lance said shakily, tears running down his face. He threw the blade to the floor. "Why Keith? Why him and not me? Everyone knows how fucking shit Keith is at following orders, let alone leading a whole fucking team. So tell me, why?"

Shiro didn't have an answer and Lance knew it.

"Whatever," Lance said, wrapping his arms around himself and smearing blood on his jacket. "Leave me alone. Go train Keith some more. Fuck knows he needs it."

Shiro sighed. He had screwed up. "Lance, I'm sorry. I didn't know how you felt about all of this. I should have talked to the whole team before starting to train Keith. I messed up."

Lance kept his gaze averted, and Shiro pretended not to notice how his thumb was pressing against the cuts on his arm.

"I'd like to hear you out," Shiro said, reaching and putting a hand on Lance's knee. "Maybe we can talk it through and come up with a better solution."

Lance let his eyes meet Shiro's, still hesitant. Slowly, he nodded.

_____________________________

They talked for two hours, eventually moving so that they were sitting side-by-side and leaning against Lance's bed. The razor still sat on the floor, but only because Shiro didn't want to bring attention to it and remind Lance that it was there. They talked, and at first it was Shiro coaxing one-word answers out of Lance, but eventually Lance was spilling out all of his thoughts on the matter, and Shiro was surprised by the amount of thought he had put into it.

In the end, they hadn't really come to a decision, but instead decided to talk together as a team more to figure out what should be done. Keith wasn't going to like it, but Shiro realized that it wasn't fair on any of them for him to have made the decision without their consultation.

They were quiet for a moment.

"You should go talk to Keith," Shiro said.

Lance made a face. "No."

"I know you're mad, but you guys need to talk through this. Maybe not the training stuff, but at least talk about the fight you had. It was pretty bad."

"He deserved it."

"Did he?"

Shiro's question made Lance hesitate. Did Keith deserve Lance flipping out like that? "I guess not. But I didn't deserve what he said, either."

"You're absolutely right," Shiro said, nodding, "And trust me, I'm going to have a long conversation with him about that, because it was unacceptable. But he deserves to have a chance to apologize, don't you think?"

Lance shrugged. Shiro smiled.

"Go talk to him."

And that was how Lance found himself standing in front of Keith's door, debating whether or not to actually knock or to just keep walking and pretend this never happened. He sighed, knowing what the right choice was. He knocked on the door.

When Keith opened, his eyes narrowed. "What do _you_ want?"

Lance held his hands up in surrender. "I just want to talk."

Keith couldn't help it when his eyes trailed down Lance's uncovered arms. There were new cuts, but they were relatively shallow didn't need bandages. Keith sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the word, "WHY?" freshly carved into the skin. _Oh, God, that was because of me._

"Lance, I..." he trailed off, his breath catching in his throat, not able to take his eyes off of the cuts, causing Lance to notice and cross his arms over his chest, hiding the wounds from view. "Do you want to come in?"

Lance nodded and stepped inside, letting the door slide close behind him. They sat side-by-side on Keith's bed, trying to think of what to say and avoiding the other's gaze.

"I'm sorry, Lance," Keith said quietly. "I didn't think you'd... I mean, I just..." He sighed. "I shouldn't have said what I did. It was too far."

Lance wrapped his arms tighter around himself. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have blown up like that. I should have just talked to you guys about everything."

"As a team, we're all pretty shit at talking to each other, aren't we?"

Lance's face softened, lips almost curving into a smile. "You've got that right. Pidge's gender, Shiro's PTSD, my... whatever this is." He gestured vaguely to himself. "We could all do with some better communication."

Keith finally turned to look at Lance. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I should be trying to help you with your issues, not throwing them in your face like I did. Especially in front of Pidge. She didn't deserve to find out like that."

Lance playfully shoved his shoulder into Keith's. "It's okay. I forgive you. It was a stupid fight."

"No, you're right. I'm not cut out for this."

"Sorry, what?"

Keith leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, threading his hands into his hair. He sighed. "In all honesty, Lance? I hate this as much as you do. I'm not a leader. I can't be the black paladin. I don't even know why Shiro's doing all of this. I'm impulsive and reckless and I'd get us all killed."

 _Wow, okay._ Lance wasn't expecting all this to spill out. He wrapped an arm around Keith's shoulders. "Then I guess it's a good thing this all came up, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." He looked over at Lance. "Come and talk to me next time," he said. Lance looked confused. "When you want to cut. Come to me and I'll help. I don't know how, but I'll try." He sat up and reached over to Lance's scarred arm. His fingers lightly hovered over the cuts, wanting to touch, but knowing he shouldn't. Instead, he took hold of Lance's hand. "You can beat this."

A tear trailed down Lance's face and his mouth was parted slightly. He blinked a few more tears away and smiled before pulling Keith into a tight hug. "Okay. I'll try."

 

 

.005.

Shiro's comm was down, and no one had a visual on the black lion. Pidge was screaming, fighting off four jets on her own. On the video feed, Lance saw that she had a stream of blood running down her forehead and into her eye. Hunk was cursing, which in itself meant that he had gone past his tipping point and was fighting for his life. Allura was shouting instructions from the castle, but from her far vantage point she couldn't see the intricacies of the battle. Keith... Well, Keith was doing his best.

"O-okay, guys," Keith said, trying to hide the wavering in his voice. "Hunk, I need you to fly around the main battleship to flank it."

The yellow lion banked right and Hunk chimed in. "I mean, I'll do my best, Keith, but there's a ton of ships over there."

"Just do it!"

"Keith!" Pidge screamed. "Keith, I need help! I'm getting destroyed over here!"

"Lance! Go help Pidge!"

Lance angled his lion towards the green one. "Keith, there's an opening to your left, you can–"

"Let me think, Lance!" Keith took a shuddering breath, pulse racing. Everything was moving so fast. How did Shiro do it? _"Fuck!"_ He dove away from a blast that almost obliterated him.

"Keith!" Lance shouted. He had reached Pidge and was doing his best to knock back the fighters.

"I'm fine. Hunk, status!"

Hunk grunted. "Not good. Too many. My lion's not cut out for this. Not fast enough."

Sure enough, Keith turned just in time to see the yellow lion get side-swiped by an armored battleship, sending Hunk spinning off course.

"Keith, you gotta–"

 _"Shut up, Lance!"_ He was starting to hyperventilate. "I can't think. I can't..."

_Patience yields focus._

Deep breath. Okay. He could do this. Another deep breath.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t fucking do this.

"Keith!!"

Pidge and Lance were being overtaken. Keith sped towards them, firing at the Galra ships. He watched in horror as the main ship's ion cannon began to power up. He pushed his lion even faster.

"Lance, look out!"

His world exploded in a flash of white as the cannon struck him.

_____________________________

Lance was pacing back and forth in front of the healing pod that Keith was in. There was blood dried in his hair, and his leg was visibly broken, the bone sticking out of a gash in his shin. Tears poured down Lance's face, and his fingernails dug into his palms.

"Lance, you gotta calm down," Hunk said from behind him. "You've been at this for two hours. Keith is gonna be okay." He gently reached out and grabbed Lance's hands, keeping him from pacing. "Come on, let's go to my room. Pidge is there, too."

He let himself be led away, neck craned to keep Keith in his sight as long as possible. The doors slid shut behind them and Lance swallowed around a lump in his throat. They walked in silence to Hunk's room, where Pidge was lounging on his bed, a bandage wrapped around her head. She moved over, making room for the two boys, and they joined her.

"You okay?" she asked.

Lance opened his mouth to reply, but didn't know what to say. "I don't know. What does okay mean?"

She gave a sad smile and leaned into him. He closed his eyes, finding comfort in the gentle pressure. Her voice was tired as she spoke. "Well the dictionary definition of okay is satisfactory, but not exceptionally good. My definition is more like you're not crying and can manage a bit of a smile, even if it's not big."

Sure enough, the corners of Lance's mouth turned up, but his eyes started to tear up and the smile wavered. "Then, no, I don't think I'm okay."

Hunk wrapped an arm around him. "Talk to us. It'll help."

Lance took in a shaky breath. "It's my fault," he started. "I should have–"

"Nope, I'm gonna stop you right there," said Pidge, sitting up. "No 'should haves' are allowed in this room."

He sighed. "Fine. He took the hit because I was too slow. So it's my fault that he's hurt. First it was you, and now Keith. Because of me." Hunk squeezed him tightly, and tears began to fall down Lance's face. "And now... I just really want to..." He let out a sob. "I want to cut, Hunk. So fucking bad. God, that's all I want to do right now."

He heard Pidge suck in a sharp breath beside him, but Hunk stayed steady, rubbing circles into his back. It wasn't the first time that he and Lance had been in this situation. Back at the Garrison, Hunk was the only person Lance felt like he could turn to when things were falling apart. He couldn't count the number of times Hunk had helped him through panic attacks or bouts of self harm.

"I know, buddy," Hunk said.

Lance began to cry harder and his hands started to shake. He brought a hand up to his mouth to try and stifle the sobs, but instead found his teeth digging into the back of his hand. He groaned and closed his eyes, enjoying the pain until his hand was tugged away.

"Come on, Lance, hang in there."

Hunk held Lance's hands in his own, and Lance turned and buried his face into his chest, letting his tears come freely.

"H-hunk, oh G-god," he gasped between cries. "I hate this, _fuck._ I h-hate everything." He pulled his hand from Hunk's grasp to tug at his own hair. "It's all my fault! _It's all my fault._ " Lance was completely lost now, and his fist began to slam against his own head, his body desperate to feel pain.

Hunk slipped his hand around Lance's wrist and brought it towards his chest, guiding it to hit at his chest instead of Lance's head.

" _FUCK!_ " Lance was screaming and crying and pounding his fists against Hunk. "I wish I were dead. I wish I was in that pod instead of him!"

Hunk was crying, and when he looked up, he saw that Pidge was, too. She was backed into the corner, legs tucked into her chest and arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide. She was okay, though. More okay than Lance, at least.

They sat like that for a long time. Occasionally, Lance's hands wandered towards himself, pinching and pulling and hitting, but Hunk directed them back to his own body. He could handle the bruises. Eventually, Lance started to run out of steam. He slumped into Hunk's chest, still crying, but with no more fight left in him. Pidge had calmed down by that time, too, and was gently stroking Lance's hair. The three maneuvered so they were laying down in Hunk's bed, Lance sandwiched between them. He curled into Hunk's side, but reached out until his hand found Pidge's and they laced their fingers together.

Lance's breathing slowly evened out and he stopped shaking. Slowly, the tears stopped and the tension left his face. Slowly, his eyes slipped closed, and Hunk and Pidge shared a sigh of relief before they followed suit. Sleep came quickly.

Well, for Pidge and Hunk, sleep came quickly. Lance lay there, eyes closed and trying to sleep, but with no success. He counted his breaths, and by the time he reached two hundred, he gave up. Lance wriggled out of bed, taking care to not wake the other two. Before he left the room, he glanced back at them. Both of their eyes were puffy from crying, and Lance could already see a few bruises forming on Hunk's arms. Lance's heart clenched. He really owed Hunk one.

Lance walked out of the room and stood in the hallway. He just needed some time to himself. He needed to think. Now that he was calmer, he would be fine. He made his way back to his room and sat on his bed. He took a deep breath.

Keith was going to be fine. He was in a healing pod, and he was going to be okay. His leg would heal up, and his concussion would get better and the head wound would stop bleeding and he wasn’t going to die _he can’t die he’s going to be okay._

Lance realized that he was digging his fingernails into his arm, almost opening up old cuts. He relaxed his hands and stretched his fingers out. He took another deep breath.

“Calm down,” he told himself. His fingers twitched. “You can do this.” His hands began to shake.

Lance stood up abruptly. He needed to move. He couldn’t just sit there anymore. Not when his heart was starting to pound again. Not when the itch was coming back to his gut.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing in front of Keith’s door, hand poised to knock. He froze, a strangled sound escaping his throat.

His chest _hurt_ and it felt like something inside him snapped.

_Keith’s gone and it’s all my fault I should have been better I should have protected I can’t i can’t i can’t keith is hurt because of me he almost died pidge almost died ive almost killed two teammates what if next time they die what if keith dies what if pidge dies my fault my fault i should have been better **i should have been better**_

He was running, back down the hallway into his room. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was too tight and his lungs weren’t listening, _he couldn’t breathe damn it!_

Door open, race inside, fall to knees, search, where is it where is it, find it, breathe a sigh of relief, pull sleeve up, _cut._

It was bad.

It was really bad.

Lance lost track of how many cuts he made. He normally liked to keep track and stop on a multiple of five, but this time he couldn’t remember. He passed twenty, thirty, and just kept going. When he ran out of room, he switched hands and shakily used his left to cut into his right.

When he finally snapped out of it, there was blood everywhere. He could barely move his left arm without gasping in pain. The edges of his vision were fuzzy with adrenaline and he threw the razor to the ground, scrambling to get up. He idly noticed that he was getting blood everywhere. It didn’t matter.

Then he was stumbling down the hallways, blood and tears running freely. He burst through the doors to the cryo room and collapsed in front of Keith’s tube.

Lance screamed and pounded the glass, leaving blood splatters on the surface. He didn’t know what he was saying, didn’t even know what language it was, or if any of it was actual words. He needed to scream, so he screamed and screamed, as loud as he could.

It wasn’t fair. Why were they the ones to get pulled into a war they had no part in? Why them? They were just a handful of teenagers who went to flight school. Fuck, Pidge and Hunk hadn’t even been pilots. Was this some cruel twist of fate? Drag them into space only to carefully peel away at them until they were nothing?

Until Lance was nothing?

He wasn’t screaming anymore. He didn’t know when he stopped. There was blood all over him and the healing pod, but his cuts were starting to clot. His pulse was pounding in his eardrums and all he could hear was his heavy breathing.

Lance flinched violently when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Oh, Lance, my boy.”

Coran kneeled down next to him. Lance turned his face away.

“Leave me alone,” he mumbled.

Coran smiled softly and brushed Lance’s bangs away from his sweaty forehead. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“That’s okay.” Coran settled on the floor next to him and they both stared up at Keith. “You know, this reminds me of when–”

“Sorry, Coran, but I really don’t care.”

“Maybe it'll help.” He paused, waiting for a protest, but Lance stayed quiet. “I’ve never done what you do,” Coran continued. His voice was quiet and gentle. “But a long time ago, some of my friends got into some rough stuff. It was called Nothil, and you’d put a drop of it right behind your ear. I only did it once or twice, and didn’t really understand. But I remember them telling me how good it burned, and some of them even died because of it.”

Lance hung his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

Coran’s eyes gleamed with tears. “No reason. No reason at all. Let’s go get you cleaned up, my boy.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

+1

Lance let out an elated whoop as he pushed Blue faster and faster through the stars. He felt her purr and he patted the dashboard.

“Atta girl! C’mon!”

It had been a long, long time since he had felt this free. With his recent flare-up, he and Blue hadn’t been on good terms. She hated that he was hurting, and would try to comfort him. It was mostly appreciated, but occasionally Lance would shove her away, wanting to be alone.

“I’m sorry, Blue,” he whispered as they flew. The cockpit lights pulsed in acknowledgement. They were okay. She forgave him.

As he came around a cluster of asteroids, Blue suddenly jerked to a standstill. Lance was immediately on edge, hands clutching the controls.

“What’s going on?”

The next thing he knew, the airlock was open. He was being sucked out into space.

“Blue! Blue, help!” He grabbed the back of the pilot chair as he flew past. His jacket flapped behind him, reminding him of the fact that he didn’t even have his armor on. No helmet, no flight suit, no armor. Lance felt his grip slipping, and he screamed as he scrambled for purchase. An angry growl came from deep within Blue, taking Lance by surprise.

She was _ejecting him._

The metal of the chair slipped through his fingers, and he tumbled head over heels into the emptiness of space. As he spun, he saw the airlock close and Blue fly away, quickly disappearing.

His heart was pounding and he knew he was going to die. No one knew he was out flying this late at night. He had just wanted to go on a joyride and bond with his lion. And now he was going to die.

Lance suddenly felt himself being pulled. He opened his eyes to find a harsh glow surrounding him. A tractor beam was pulling him in. He glanced up, about to call out a thank you, but the words died on his lips as he saw the unmistakable Galra purple.

The Galra took him onto their ship and immediately strapped him in handcuffs. Lance was confused, unarmed, and helpless. There was nothing he could do but go where the guards led him. They shoved him roughly in the back, causing him to stumble and struggle to keep his footing. The guards didn’t talk, and he didn’t ask questions. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and he didn’t think he could form any words even if he wanted to.

They turned down a hallway lined with glass display cases. Some contained precious artifacts like crowns and jewels from various destroyed planets. As they went deeper into the ship, body parts began appearing. Lance gagged at the sight of a bloody Altean ear encased in glass. He tried not to look at the eyeballs or the fingers that lined the hallway, but his gaze kept getting pulled to them.

One display case had Lance falling to his knees in front of it. It contained Shiro’s arm. His human hand that the Galra had taken from him. It was unmistakable. Lance thought that he might be screaming, but he couldn’t tell. He thought the walls were pulsing, but he couldn’t tell. He thought the floor was heaving, but he couldn’t tell.

The guards hauled him to his feet and pressed their guns into his back. He kept walking.

They entered a new wing of the ship and he could hear screaming in the distance. He thought he might throw up when he recognized them as Pidge and Hunk. They had been captured. They were all dead. He wondered if it would be a quick death. He hoped so.

They stopped at an unremarkable door which opened to reveal what could be none other than a torture chamber. The guards strapped Lance to a bloodstained cot. He didn’t know how long he sat there, waiting to find out what they were going to do. He zoned out and let himself say a few silent goodbyes to his team and to his family back home.

By the time the Galra soldier loomed over his face, Lance was ready to die. He had accepted his fate.

What he wasn’t ready for was the slow drag of claws over his left forearm.

“The Blue Paladin likes pain,” the soldier growled. Lance’s breath caught in his throat at another scrape of the claws. “The Blue Paladin likes pain, and that’s what we’ll give him.” With a slash of his arm, the soldier cut a deep gash into Lance.

“Aah!” Lance cried out, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Quiet,” the solder ordered, adding another agonizing cut to his arm. He reached for something and Lance felt a sharp prick as he was injected with something. His muscles seized up and his body stiffened, completely frozen. Dread swelled in his chest.

The Galra focused his attention back to Lance’s arm, where he meticulously added a long row of cuts almost identical to the ones that Lance normally gave himself. The pain was overwhelming and Lance could _feel_ the blood seeping out of him. By the time the soldier switched to carve into his right arm, Lance was slipping in and out of consciousness.

A slap across the face brought his senses back into focus.

“Pay attention. Someone wants to say hello.”

A video screen descended from the ceiling and Lance struggled to get his senses to cooperate. His vision was blurry, but he would recognize that mullet anywhere.

_Keith._

He was tied up and bloody. His left eye was missing. He spat blood at the feet of his torturer.

“Fuck you,” Keith said.

He was rewarded with a heavy boot to his face, knocking him backwards. Lance tried to call his name, but his body was still frozen in place. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen as Keith was kicked over and over again. His cries of pain pierced Lance to his very core.

The camera was picked up by Keith’s captor and angled to show his face. A tuft of white hair and a scar came into view.

Shiro grinned. There was blood across his face and his eyes glowed yellow. He brought his glowing Galra arm into the shot before tossing the camera across the room. It landed so that Lance could only see the wall of Keith’s holding cell, and how blood splashed across it as Keith screamed.

_____________________________

Lance jerks awake with a scream of his own and he scrambles backwards until he’s pressed tightly against the wall. His eyes dart around, trying to focus in the low light. He’s in his room on the castle-ship. Tears are pouring down his face. He can almost smell the blood and his wrists sting.

Panicking, Lance yanks his sleeves up to examine his arms, checking for new ones. He hasn’t cut in almost a week but the dream had just seemed so _real_. He lets out a strangled sound of relief when there are no new cuts, but his hands start to shake and his wrists won’t stop itching. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the torture room and the soldier cutting him, over and over again. He can feel his skin opening, can feel the blood dripping down.

His eyes snap open and Lance launches himself across the bed to dig through his nightstand. He has his razor in his hand and is poised to drag it across his skin when he stops.

No.

The blade falls from his fingers and Lance is up, walking out of his room and down the hallway. He knocks sharply on Keith’s door. He stands there, shaking and crying, until Keith opens up. He’s rubbing sleep from his eyes and his hair is a mess.

“Lance? What’s wrong?” Keith askes. He’s taken aback when Lance collapses into his arms, sobbing. “Hey, it’s okay. Come here.” Keith pulls him inside and sits Lance on his bed. He kneels in front of him, trying to get his attention, but Lance seems lost inside himself. “Lance? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Lance shakes his head, arms wrapped around himself. “I didn’t cut, but I want to, Keith, please help me.”

Keith’s heart twists as Lance looks at him through tear-filled eyes. Keith climbs onto the bed with him and holds his arms out. Lance crashes into his chest, sobs tearing through his body.

Keith doesn't know what to do, so he just holds him. His hands find their way to Lance's hair and he gently smooths the locks back. His shirt is getting damp from the tears, and Lance's fingers are twisted up in the fabric, clutching it like a lifeline. Keith reaches down to try and get Lance's hands to relax, and he inadvertently grabs Lance's wrists.

Lance jerks his hands out of Keith's grasp, crying out. "D-don't touch my wrists." He holds his arms close to his chest protectively.

"Fuck, sorry, sorry." Keith watches as Lance brings his hands to his hair and starts yanking. "No, come on," he says, untangling his fingers, careful to avoid Lance's wrists. He brings Lance's hands away from his head and holds them tightly.

"K-Keith..." Lance moans. "Please."

"It's okay." Keith is grasping at straws, no idea of what he can do to help Lance. "You've gotta calm down, Lance."

"I can't!"

"Yes, you can." He rubs his thumbs over the backs of Lance's hands. "Try to focus on one thing. That's what I used to do in the desert when things were too much. Focus right here." He squeezes his hands tighter. "The pressure and the warmth. How do my gloves feel?"

Lance is still crying, but he's able to take a shuddering breath. "Soft," he says.

Keith smiles. "Good. Take a deep breath for me, okay?"

Slowly, Keith gets Lance to quiet his breathing. After a while, he's able to let go of Lance's hands and Lance wraps his arms around Keith, leaning into him. The tears stop and his body stops shaking. Lance's feels heavy, and when his eyes start to slip shut, Keith moves them so they're lying on the bed, face-to-face. Their knees are bumping and Lance has his arm around Keith's waist, holding them together. Keith lets his hand play with Lance's hair.

After a long while, Lance finally gives a small smile. It's in sharp contrast to his red and puffy eyes, but a smile nonetheless. "I guess there's no pretending I forgot this bonding moment, is there?"

Keith isn’t sure if he should be happy or offended. "Y-you!" He stammers. "I knew it! I knew you remembered!"

Lance can't hold back a laugh, and that gets Keith laughing, too. They laugh until their sides hurt, and Lance's arm tightens around Keith's waist, pulling him close. When the laughter dies down, their noses are mere inches apart. Keith blushes and tries to pull away. Lance holds him tighter.

"Don't go," he says.

Still blushing, Keith relaxes and lets himself settle back into a comfortable position. He finds himself staring at Lance's face, at the barely-there freckles from years in the sun back on Earth. And when Lance looks up at him and their eyes lock, for once it's not awkward. Keith's hand is still playing with Lance's hair.

"I'm glad you came to me," Keith says. "I'm proud of you. That had to be hard."

Lance's eyes close for a few moments longer than a blink. "Thanks for being here."

Keith leans forward to press their foreheads together. "I'll always be here, Lance."

**Author's Note:**

> look at me channeling my mental illnesses onto my fave characters again!


End file.
